Half Breed Heart Ch. 01

T HE PERSONAL CHAMBER of Princess Allestra was nothing short of a wonder. The stone walls were covered in peach silk padding. Across the fine tiled floor were strewn thick, lush furs. Against one wall was a large dressing table with a flawless mirror. It had been shipped across the sea along with her tall chest of drawers and free standing closet. The finest feature of the room by far was the four posted, royal blue curtained bed.

Her clothes were of the finest, softest cotton and silk fabrics. As with most fashions in Thaldis, they weren't made to cover the flesh, but showcase it. The oppressive heat of the desert side was a constant and garb of light flowing fabric was in fashion. The Princess wore one of her favourite dresses as she sat at her dressing table brushing her hair.

It was a garment of thin blue silk held up by two fine ribbons. The neckline drooped, the loose fitting garment draped down past the knee but was split a quarter way up between the thighs in front and back.

He watched her, certainly not for the first time from a secret peephole in the wall. She hummed a light tune to herself, she had such a sweet voice, light and cheery. Her long, straight blonde hair fell over one shoulder as she slowly pulled her imported ivory handled brush through it.

As she flipped her hair to attend to the underside one of the thin ribbons fell over her shoulder, revealing one full, perfect pale breast with its pert pink nipple for just a moment before she pulled the garment back into place.

He had seen her in the nude before, watched her bathe, and walked in on her on purpose mid wardrobe change. Every time he saw more than was appropriate it was still a revelation and he tried to burn the images into his memory.

He couldn't help but look into that lovely face. Ocean blue eyes set atop a perfect nose and soft, pillowy lips. When she smiled at someone they couldn't help but smile back. If she laughed the whole room was lifted by the appearance of her joy.

There were no smiles or laughter for him, however. No, that was something she chose to deny him along with his right to marry her. He had rightfully defeated her father, taken her royal house for his own by spilling his blood and killing his sons. The law said she was his, a war prize like gold coins, jewellery or a fine vase. He owned her lands and punished her people. They would live on scraps and build their huts from ashes until she gave in and saw what a successful, formidable man he was.

She didn't submit, however. While he was in her presence her light heartedness and warm spirit were gone, and he would not take her by force. He needed to see her smile at him, to make her laugh, to watch her writhe in extacy as he gave her the most exquisite pleasure.

One of her servants entered then; a young woman with generous curves and dark hair. He watched her closely. She was tanned from venturing outside the tower and though she was not muscular, her legs, hips and stomach were pleasingly shaped. Her breasts were large enough to tense the halter she wore. The thong around her gently curved waist held up a cloth that hung loose in the front and in the back.

Moracor could see beads of sweat gathering on her bare shoulders and midriff. The sway of her bare, tanned hips made the strip of light cloth falling from the center of her waist strap sway back and forth tantalizingly, almost revealing the inner curves of her round bottom. He knew she was hairless beneath, all the servants were required to groom themselves thusly. In fact, it was the expected fashion of Thaldis and that part of the world.

She will have to do. He thought to himself. He took a few steps, opened the secret passage entrance and walked onto the landing of the tower staircase. Without knocking he opened the bedroom door.

The Princess gave him her usual cold look, not bothering to turn around, only flicking her gaze to him in the mirror then going back to brushing her light blond hair in long smooth strokes. The servant left the small tray of fine fruit and watered wine on the table.

Turning towards the door she smiled and curtsied at King Moracor. See? She knows to respect her liege lord. I rule for seven thousand leagues in every direction! Anyone standing in this city cannot gaze upon land that is not mine or granted to some lesser man out of my generosity! This serving girl whose face is round, her waist is thin, her hips are ready for child and I daresay can provide them twins at a time would let me have her right here! Even if only to come closer to the throne, this girl knows when she should bow to a King and that she should open her legs as well. I'd wager a million gold pieces on it!

"Hold, Illibra. I would like you to take account of my conversation with the Princess," King Moracor ordered, trying to sound casual and light.

"Yes my Liege." The serving girl stopped, standing in the middle of the room with her head down.

"How do you find the day, Princess?" he went on.

"Hot. Hot and bothersome."

"Perhaps we could fetch you some cool water? Have someone bathe your feet?"

"A temporary relief at best. Even a cool bath would only lift the sweat from my skin, cool me then I'd be left to sit or stand in this furnace you've trapped me in."

"I have gone to great lengths to make your rooms comfortable, is there something more I could do?"

"Send me home, to the seaside and woodland. That is what you could do. Bring me back to my Nolan and his clansman. I am sure he'd receive me peacefully and pay you a ransom."

"The woodlands, where homes are made of twigs and muck, you suffer rain seasons a quarter year long, freezing snow for another, and your countrymen stink of ale and the livestock they keep. You'd have this instead of the land of literacy, silks, fine food, better wine and sensual creativity?"

She turned in her seat to stare at him. Her blue eyes were piercing, her face fully furious, she was breathtaking. "Yes, yes! A thousand times yes! Hundreds of days you have come and asked me these questions in all different phrasings, and every time I give you the same simple answer; deliver me to my home! Release me from this perpetual slavery!"

King Moracor sighed. "Your concept of slavery is curious. I lavish upon you, give you luxuries that are surpassed by only my own. You want for nothing in this place, your bed could not be softer if I piled it with the feathers of angels. You have something to read, the best food to eat, the most delicious wines to drink yet you would not share one afternoon of polite company with me. Slaves toil in the salt mines, shovel coal into the furnaces beneath the baths, clean public latrines in the streets. You don't know the sting and toil of slavery."

"You are my captor! You murdered my family, killed for the crown and my family's land! I will not give you my hand in marriage or willingly grant you consummation!"

The argument had happened dozens of times before, but King Moracor was still outraged. "I am no murderer! I am a conqueror, a commander of men and the superior to millions! Your father should have accepted exile if he did not wish to be slain for his crown. He should have protected his family better, hid them away if he wished them to have a better fate, but now I stand here wishing to take my right as a conqueror, to enjoy my prize."

"Then take it! Take it and send me home! I'm no virgin I warn you, no delicate waif and if I am with child after you plant your black seed I'll poke it out! The matter would be done, one bastard out and the other well behind! But take me and be done with it so I can be sent away like disused trash and be free!"

"No!" King Moracor shouted. "I offer you my right side. To rule over a kingdom of unfathomable riches filled with subjects who would adore you as the flower does the sun! We would spend days in my bed chamber, in the private baths making an heir of two lands and I'd lavish upon you the deepest pleasures, satisfy and thrill you unlike any man alive. Sadly, such gifts cannot be forced. If it were possible I would have raised my hand to you and changed your mind long ago! How is it you do not understand my offer? What I've given you is only the slightest of beginnings, a pittance! Would other women refuse such offers?"

"I am not other women! Stripped of my dreams I sit captive in this silk prison, far from home, a stolen prize in a royal slaves bond. Your gifts mean nothing!"

"Then I put this to you; If you relent to me, allow me to pleasure you, the spell that prevents you from taking another man will be lifted. I only ask that you give me your grace willingly."

"You reach for what you cannot grasp. I will never submit to you willingly."

King Moracor took three steps and stopped to stand beside the serving girl. His arm went around her waist, his other hand caressed her tanned, soft cheek. "You would not refuse such an offer, would you?"

She slowly shook her head, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. "N-no my Liege. I would h-honour you."

"You see? Even this common serving girl knows that I should not be refused."

"She's terrified."

"Then I will allay her fears," the King took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His manner calmed and when he looked into her dark brown eyes and smiled the corners of her mouth turned upward. She was relaxing, just beginning to grow accustomed to the nearness of her King. He was fully a head taller, and his long finely braided black hair left traces of scented olive oil on her skin. "I release you of any servant's duties for the day and promise no retribution if you refuse my gifts. Do you understand?"

She hesitated a moment and nodded. "Yes my Lord," she whispered.

"If I offered you pleasure, would you accept it here, this very moment?"

"Yes my King," she replied with no hesitation.

His hand traced lightly up and down her back, from the top of the string across her hips to the back of her neck. His other hand traced her cheek, her neck, then back up across her lips as he turned and spoke to Princess Allestra. "You see? Even with her servant's duties lifted for the day and any threat of repercussions remove, she knows I offer her something that no sane woman would refuse."

"She is of low birth, she'd accept a roasted turd from your chamber pot if you gave it to her."

Moracor turned back to the servant girl, who was biting her bottom lip as he traced behind her ear lightly. "Would you take my seed Illibra? Join my harem?"

"Yes, yes I would, my King," she replied with a quiver as he traced his right hand down across her halter, brushing a hardened nipple through the cloth.

Moracor looked at the Princess. "You'll watch this. Call it an education."

"I will not. It's obscene," she replied, turning up her perfect little nose.

"You think this natural act is obscene?" he asked as he untied the servant's top and gently pulled it away. "These beautiful vessels that are host to such pleasure? Such glorious use?" He grazed a light brown nipple with his thumb and traced the underside of the woman's heavy breast.

She leaned against him, putting an arm around his back.

"You won't win me with such demonstrations. I won't even give you the pleasure of having me as an idle witness." She turned and faced the mirror.

King Moracor's expression darkened and his eyes met the reflection of hers. "You would not want to displease me while I hold such a delicate flower."

"You wouldn't hurt her," the Princess whispered back at him.

He pinched the servant's nipple between thumb and forefinger and tore her bottoms off, the string holding it all up came apart easily. The young woman gasped and staggered at the sudden motion and sensation of such a sudden cruel touch upon her breast. He let go of her nipple and placed her in front of him. Moracor took a breast in one of his hands and let the other large hand rest on her pleasantly rounded stomach. There was muscle just beneath the soft surface. Moracor's eyes were fixed on the Princess's during the entire act, and he mouthed; "Watch or she dies," over the young woman's shoulder.

Princess Allestra turned in her seat and nodded, looking at the King and servant girl stoically, trying to suppress all signs of emotion. She didn't want her gaze to give him any pleasure.

The King was busy at work. Next to defeating his enemies, romancing women was his passion. He tilted her head up and pressed his lips to hers. Their mouths opened wide, her slim tongue met his and they crushed into each other. She tasted like dates and vanilla, the sound of her breathing heavily throughout the kiss excited him.

Her hand moved to his member and traced it through his dark silk robe. She was much younger than he, perhaps only nineteen summers, but she had known love before. The stroke of her hand was that of someone who had pleased a man in the past.

Bare and warm to the touch, her breasts, firm as they were, gave way to his persistent touch as he pressed them up and back down, avoiding her nipples for longer than she thought she could stand. Finally he ran his hands across each entire breast, pausing only to tweak and pleasure each pointed nub. They were only one and a half times as wide as his thumb, and she moaned while he circled and played at them.

He broke their kiss and half turned her so he could suck one nipple and part of the breast flesh greedily into his mouth. Her gasps were music to his ears and he relented, drawing away for a moment before taking only the nipple between his lips, flicking it with his tongue.

One hand reached down and caught her mid-inner thigh. The other cupped her rounded bottom. Her knees parted and he ran his nails lightly up the tender skin leading to her warm, bare mound. Instead of attending to her nether lips he let his fingers go around the tender flesh and felt how smooth and yielding it was. Her heavy breathing filled the room, and as he nibbled the tip of her nipple his eyes rolled to the Princess.

Though Allestra tried her best to hide it, she couldn't help but react. Her face was flushed and her light silk dress was too thin to conceal her hardened pink nipples. She sat and stared, motionless. Trying not to explore with her eyes, to watch his work or the girl, who had forgotten where she was.

The serving girl's breasts heaved, her body quaked, and as Moracor's big middle finger gently traced the bare slit of her most precious passage, beginning to part the dark pink lips she moaned loudly. He spread her open, not touching between the folds for long seconds, just exposing. The woman opened her legs wider, thrust her hips, tried to grind his finger into her but he was careful not to reward her impatience.

He stopped sucking her nipples and brought his other hand from her buttock to the mid of her back and looked into her face. "Tell me what you desire," he asked her. His voice was thick with desire, his eyes were on the Princess.

The servant's eyes were closed, she was sure the question was for her. "Make me yours. Fill me with your royal seed, my King," she replied huskily.

He did not grant her request, not right away. "You are impatient, my seed will take root more surely if it arrives on waves of pleasure," King Moracor said as his fingers massaged the throbbing pink lips. She was near dripping wet. His middle finger traced its way up to the top where the folds met and rubbed there firmly in quick little circles. She cried out, breathing faster and faster until she stopped altogether, her body stiffening, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling his head down onto her chest. As she started breathing hoarsely once more his finger slipped inside the soft, deep pink, stroking in and out rhythmically.

The first finger was joined by a second, and though it looked like it was a difficult entry the writhing and moaning of the servant as it penetrated all knuckles deep indicated it was very much a welcome invasion. "My King, your fingers are large," she breathed.

"I am far more formidable," he replied. She understood his meaning and looked at him with eyes wide for a moment before she was once again too distracted. His palm pressed against her mound and rubbed in circles between strokes. Before long she was breathless once more, clutching him to her. The muscles of her thighs twitched with each wave of her climax.

"It is time," said the King as he let his black robe fall to the floor.

The Princess's instinct was to look away, but her eyes met his and she knew it would prove disastrous for her servant. There was no choice but to watch as King Moracor's tanned, muscled arms lifted the girl so her back was against his chest and held her up with a hand behind each of her knees, legs open wide. Her arms wrapped about his neck and she kissed him deeply.

They remained thus for a long moment, his member pinned between her bottom and his stomach. She couldn't help look at the two of them, both tanned, fit. The other woman's breasts were full, her body covered in sweat, she had a curvaceous form and would have married well, but Allestra knew that the King would keep this one to himself, and the woman would be living in the harem before nightfall along with his numerous whores.

He lifted the servant just a few more inches, freeing his thick member. The Princess couldn't imagine that thing inside her, and suspected magic was involved in its disproportionate size. A man his height would be expected to have less than a foot in length down there.

He pressed into her, making a long guttural sound. She gasped as he moved a third of the way inside. Her breath coincided with his first few short strokes, then he thrust his hips harder and she cried out with each of his longer, deeper strokes. He was half way in and struggling with each thrust to enter further. They were both hairless and the Princess could see every sweat and sex slicked detail. It was obscene but it brought her thoughts to the wetness that had started between her own thighs. She had joined the custom of being hairless and smooth like the serving girls who attended her. They had shown her how to remove the hair themselves and she had only done the waxing herself once. Since then her servants had done it and though the pain was severe, the smooth, sleek feel of it, the relief of a slight stirring of air in the high heat was an erotic relief.

Hair made everything harder to keep clean, more difficult to keep dry. As she tried not to stir, not to shift in her seat at the sudden wetness between her own thighs she wished she could just drop herself in a bath and have at it with her own fingers. Her own daydreams were far sweeter than the carnal show she was forced to view.

The sight of his member plunging deeply into the writhing servant girl who moaned and cried out was obscene, but the bothersome side effect of her own body craving such attentions – not from him to be certain – was becoming a problem.

His eyes explored the curves of the Princess's body under her garb, paying great attention to her pointed pink nipples, hesitating on her lush lips, locking with her deep blue eyes as he moved in and out of his serving girl. It was Princess Allestra he was mating with, not this anonymous low born. In his mind he thrust his manhood into her delicate pink purse, held her up, was hearing her gasps and screams.

He pumped harder, faster, felt the woman starting to lose her grip on his neck. Moracor turned, took the woman under the knees with one hand and held her under one arm for a second before flinging her onto the large bed. Two long strides took him across the room. Then he was on the bed, turning her so she was on her stomach.